Hum Hallelujah
by elleindie
Summary: As a human living on the brink of reality and the supernatural, Bella decides it's time to tell her story to the public. Will her unknown confidante be the right choice to help Bella's endeavors of changing humanity's views of love? BxE fluffiness.


**Summary.  
**As a human living on the brink of reality and the supernatural, Bella decides it's time to tell her story to the public. But who will she turn to? And will this unknown confidante be the right choice to help Bella's endeavors of changing humanity's views of love and life?

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**Hum Hallelujah**  
by The Volvo, aka Lasia.

I was sitting at the kitchen table as I watched her pack her laptop into its black leather carrying case and zip it closed with a sense of finality. Her head was down, the silver clip holding back her thick, russet hair shimmering in the yellow, artificial light of the bulbs. There was a faint pitter-patter of rain on the paned-glass window; she had said that it was a comforting sound, much more enjoyable than the sound of young boys running around the kitchen in their bare feet.

I'd had to agree, although I couldn't quite empathize.

As she continued to pack up her supplies – chewed-on pens, legal note pads, endless spiral-bound notebooks – she glanced up at me.

"Will he be joining you tonight?"

I fiddled with the half-empty glass sitting before me. "No, he and his family are hunting," I said quietly. Strange; I could tell her everything - _had_ told her everything - but now I felt self-conscious. As if I expected her to call me crazy and have me hauled off to the nearest sanitarium. It was still a more plausible option than _this_; she'd accepted the entire story without so much of a flinch, but rather an eager smile and fast fingers on a keyboard.

She allowed a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry," she said. I smiled in appreciation of the sentiment.

"It's alright," I said, bolstering myself. "I'd rather they left me for a few hours than the alternative."

"Yes, but it must kill you when he's away."

"If the pain justifies the end, I can suffer for a little while."

She grinned, and then pulled out a pen and a notepad, jotting something down. "Just for future reference," she said. Her voice was sweet and pacifying. I nodded as she handed me a phone number, followed by an email address, written in a steady, curly hand. "If you have any questions or updates," she said with a shrug.

I smiled as I folded the piece of paper into the palm of my hand and stood up. "Would you like some more coffee?" I asked, turning to the pot on the counter. It was almost empty, enough dark liquid left in it for one last cup. Charlie didn't care for decaf, and I didn't drink the stuff period. She offered me her empty mug and I filled it, placing the empty pot in the sink and rinsing it off. As I flipped off the faucet, she spoke.

"So, what made you come to me? Why the whim to tell your story, and why now?"

I frowned out the rain-streaked window, wishing a silver car would materialize there in the driveway, miraculously. "I couldn't really say." I flipped over the coffee pot, watching the water drain out of it and down the drain before I turned back around to face her. I leaned against the counter, my arms folded over my chest. "I don't really have much time left, I suppose. And I don't know how much I'll remember afterwards. He says it's a difficult process; sometimes the pain overpowers the memories."

How I wished that wasn't true. How I wished that the process could be performed as quickly and easily as pulling off a band-aid – one deep breath, one quick pull. How I wished Edward wouldn't feel the need to protect me so against the inevitable.

There were a lot of things I wished for anymore. Rarely did one come true.

There _was_ the perpetual wish that Edward wouldn't leave, that he would belong to me and I to him for the rest of our lives together. That wish was granted as each day passed. That was the story that I'd spent the past couple of days pouring out in vivid detail to the woman who smiled at me from across the little square table.

Of course, there had been conditions. I wanted my story told so long as she didn't title it as "based on a true story." I wanted _our_ story told – the story of Edward and I, and of his family, and the werewolf pack fifteen miles down the road – so long as it was categorized as fiction. No one should know of the secret world in Forks. No one should come looking for us, it wasn't safe. Of course, that issue would be solved in a matter of days; she would be attending the wedding this weekend before going home to Arizona to write, to fill in the pieces that I hadn't given her. After that, we were headed to Alaska. Jacob was still missing, but we weren't as concerned about him and his friends. Of course I worried; I was afraid Edward and I had sent him careening towards trouble. I was afraid that I was causing him perpetual pain. I was afraid that my former best friend had turned into a bitter enemy. I was afraid Jacob hated me, but there was no solution to a problem that refused to present itself to me. So long as Jacob kept running, kept hiding, I was helpless.

Rather we didn't think the "Volturi" – at least, that was the name she was using, to maintain some sense of privacy and to not invoke the wrath of the royal family – would come looking for Jacob and a bunch of overgrown wolves.

She was smiling at me sympathetically again, as if she could read my thoughts. After everything I'd told her, she probably could.

"I'm sure things will work out for you," she said, and I couldn't help but feel a blaring sense of gratitude and warmth towards this woman I barely knew. I'd spent all my time pouring myself out to be displayed across those pages, but what had she told me of herself? A small amount about her family, and promises that my privacy would be respected. She had come up with the idea to tell interviewers and fans that she'd concocted the idea for our story from a dream, and immediately afterward Edward and I had felt completely reassured about our choice to speak out. She was the right woman to do the job; we were sure she would go far on the small story of one human girl and her very non-human universe. She deserved it.

I only hoped my cutting honesty would not put her life at risk. I prayed to every god I knew that that wouldn't happen.

"Thank you," I said. I could not express in words how very thankful I was. It was pivotal that my story be told; not because the general public needed to believe in vampires and werewolves and the supernatural, but because they needed a reassurance.

I had been impacted by the lack of faith humanity had in true love only a few weeks ago. After endless weeks of wedding planning and decision making, Charlie had put his foot down. He'd confronted me during one of those rare moments that Edward was not by my side. His words floated back to me as if the rain that _plink, plink_ed against the glass carried them.

"_Finally, Bella. We need to talk."_

_It had been a particularly long and stressful week; Alice had bombarded me with questions about colors, cakes, flowers, guests. The very least I had asked for was a quiet night at home. Edward had allowed me to drive myself home, and had promised to join me later._

"_What's wrong?" I asked, genuinely concerned; as far as I knew, I hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't been in the house long enough to do anything wrong._

_So that left only a few options; Charlie was going to forbid me get married to Edward – not that he had the right, as I was legally an adult – but surely there was some rule dignifying fatherly input._

_Or, something had happened and he was annoyed by the lack of face-time we'd had lately to tell me. My mind instantly went to Renee, and then to Billy and Jacob. Had he been found? Was he alright?_

"_Nothing's wrong," he said. "That's the problem. Usually people your age. . . I don't know. You've never been like people your age, Bella, except when it came to one thing. Marriage was always something negative to you. I think that's the Renee in you. But. . . geesh, Bells. . . you seem so serious about this wedding. Do you really love Edward that much?"_

_I stood completely still. I hadn't heard so many words come from Charlie since his failed attempt at a sex talk. "Yes, Dad. I love him that much, so much that I spend endless hours at Alice's mercy picking out fabrics for bridesmaids' gowns and which shade of white to use for the tablecloths." I smiled shakily at him. How did I explain this to him without making myself sound like a puppy-love stricken teenage girl? He wasn't taking in a word of what I was saying, because he glared at me contemptuously._

_But, damn it all, didn't he understand? Marriage _was _a negative thing to me. Surely it would take only the truest of true loves to convince me to marry so young. Well, love, and a knife dangling over my head that swung like a pendulum, waiting for me to take one misstep._

_But that information wasn't pertinent to Charlie. He only needed to know how much I truly needed Edward to survive. He'd seen me without him; how could he possibly wish that would happen again? As a father, shouldn't he want only my happiness?_

_So why was he so adverse to the very thing which would cause me limitless happiness: Edward?_

_My anger flared horribly for one short moment, before I slumped against the nearest wall, exhausted and exasperated. "I love him, Charlie. More than anything – more than anyone. He's my soul mate." My tongue wrapped around the word and marred it slightly. It was an unfamiliar word in my verbal arsenal; I hadn't tested the word out loud in conjunction with Edward. Of course, that was what he was; Edward was mine and I was his, inexplicably. But how to relay the information to my pessimistic father. . . _

_His reply caught me off guard. I had been so sure soul mate would have sealed the deal._

"_Such a thing as soul mates doesn't exist. It's impossible."_

_I almost laughed. Almost, but not quite.  
_

_I wanted to laugh because it was highly ironic that my father would tell me such a theory as soul mates was unrealistic in a world where regular sci-fi wonders roamed about daily. To say something was impossible when I knew for a fact that the impossible – such as, oh, say vampires and werewolves – was possible was like trying to convince one that the alphabet they'd been learning for years was actually incorrect. The only thing impossible was that I would let Edward go. _That _was truly impossible._

But I had locked the laughter away because it saddened me to know why my father felt this way. And to know it was because of my mother. That my father no longer believed in the wonderful idea of love because that one woman had slipped away almost eighteen years ago was deeply saddening. To this very day I had remembered that; I had recalled his expression when he'd said that soul mates were impossible, and it broke a progressively bigger piece of my heart off every time.

I had almost forgotten my company in my musings. I cast her an apologetic glance before she sighed and stood up, leaving her half-empty coffee mug on the table.

"It's going to be different," she said almost nostalgically, looking around the kitchen, her eyes lingering lovingly on the bright yellow cabinets. Going back to Arizona after this – what a culture shock. What a _climate_ shock. I shivered as I remembered the hot, blistering Phoenix sun, a completely irrational and misplaced reaction.

She laughed at me, before picking up her computer bag and her purse and slinging them over the same shoulder.

"Thank you, Bella," she said, her voice oozing with sincerity. "Thank you so much. For sharing your life with me. . . for allowing me this opportunity." She frowned slightly. "And pass the sentiment onto Edward for me," she said, her eyes sparkling. She'd grown fond of Edward over the past week, as I knew, and I wondered how much she would miss him when she was in bright, sunny Phoenix where it would be hard to imagine him living.

I chuckled. "He'll be at the wedding." With a raised eyebrow, I added, "I hope."

She laughed with me before sweeping me into a hesitant yet encouraging hug.

"Good luck, Bella. With everything." Her voice was right next to my ear. I nodded into her shoulder before she pulled away.

"Thank you, Mrs. Meyer," I said as she pulled her umbrella out of her bag and eyed the drizzle through the storm door. She turned with a broad smile, her bright eyes sparkling in their warmth.

"Call me Stephenie," she said, before slipping out into the downpour.

-- -- --

The rest of the night had passed slowly. Charlie had come home later than usual from the station, which I suspected had something to do with my guest. He had only been home for an hour when I resorted to my bedroom, but only after fixing him something to eat. He'd passed along a mumbled thanks before I'd slipped up to my room.

I had been reading _Wuthering Heights_ for the umpteenth time when a cold white hand curled around the windowsill.

I jumped up to offer him my hand; he didn't need the support as he limbered through the window, his hair sparkling with diamond-like dewdrops, but he accepted it anyway. Once he had both feet planted firmly on the hardwood, his long, ice-like arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me close.

"How did it go?" he asked, his cool, sweet breath fanning through my hair. It made me shiver. In a good way.

Always in a good way.

"Fine," I said. "We finished the story today." He pulled away and perched on the edge of the bed.

"You mean you're up-to-date," he corrected. "The story isn't over yet."

I shrugged before he sat beside me. "I can't help but feel that it will be, soon. I mean," I explained, afraid he would misunderstand, "the story is still the human and the vampire, isn't it?"

Edward smiled, and I noticed it was a little sad. "The story will always be you and me, no matter what we are."

I thought about that for a while. And I had to admit that he was right; wasn't I doing this to help humanity regain their belief in the power of love? That it can transcend species, otherworldly guidelines, stubborn werewolves, and death threats? More importantly, that it was real? That soul mates really did exist? Wasn't my one hope for our story that someone would be changed by it, and that someone who had previously lost faith in love could regain it?

"Why do you always have to be right?" I mumbled, as I leaned my head against his shoulder. He laughed quietly and ran a chilled finger along my jaw.

We sat like that for several immeasurable minutes, my warm cheek resting against his rock-hard shoulder. I wondered vaguely how many would read our story, read about the countless times he and I had just enjoyed one another's company when something much bigger than both of us combined loomed ahead. How many would truly be bolstered by my experience with love, and, with a small smile, how many young girls would fall madly in love with Edward, the seemingly fictional vampire?

I was feeling increasingly sleepy. I could feel my body melting into his as I relaxed minute by minute.

"How did the hunt go?" I asked, my voice quiet and semi-mumbled. He chuckled.

"Fine. I tried to bring you back a mountain lion but Alice advised me against it."

I looked up at him. "Mountain lion? Where did you go?"

"Rainier. We wanted a bit of variety."

"Ah. Variety is but the spice of life."

He chuckled as he picked me up and slid me under the covers quite easily. The motion didn't make me feel like a rag doll; rather I felt completely secure and safe. His lips brushed my forehead before he laid down carefully beside me, flicking out the light at the same time.

"What do you think I'll prefer?" I asked, only half-interested. I was still slightly repulsed by the idea of killing something to survive. I had never considered being a vegetarian in my human life, but. . .

I could just make out his frown through the darkness. "That's something you can answer only for yourself, love."

"Hmm," I said, my eyes slipping closed. "Maybe zebra. Or aardvark."

He snorted beside me, causing me to erupt in silent giggles. "Aardvark?"

"You know, like Arthur the Aardvark." I peeked up at him with one eye still closed. "That educational show for little kids."

He frowned in disgust, and then shook his head. "You're vindictive, Bella. Hunting a children's' cartoon."

"Muahahaha," I laughed, in my best impression of Cruella de Vil. As a result of my sleepiness, it sounded rather pathetic.

Edward chuckled beside me. "I think you need sleep."

"Hmmm," I agreed, snuggling deeper into the blankets – and closer to him.

He wrapped an arm around me and kissed the top of my head. "Hmmm, indeed. But one last thing. Will your guest be attending the wedding?"

I nodded. "I invited her the other day." I glanced up at him. "Is that alright?"

Edward smiled – even in darkness, he looked like a seraph. "Perfect," he said. "I wouldn't have wanted it any other way."

I grinned and then closed my eyes again. "You know, I think she took quite a liking to you."

"Well, I'll have to tell Mrs. Meyer 'thank you' for that as well, won't I?" I could hear the laughter sugar-coating his tone.

I could drown in his voice. Even now I could feel myself sinking into it.

"No," I murmured with a small smile, on the brink of slumber. "Call her Stephenie."

-- -- --

**Disclaimer.  
**I don't own the Twilight Saga, unfortunately. Nor do I own any of the characters, and least of all, I don't own Stephenie Meyer. I borrowed her for this little experiment, and returned her shortly thereafter. No harm done. The title belongs to Fall Out Boy, and therefore has no significance to the story. No animals were harmed in the making of this production, so the aardvarks are safe.

**Author's Note.  
**Don't ask where the aardvarks came from. Just, don't.

I kind of wanted to wait until I had read _Breaking Dawn _until I posted this, so I could change things that needed to be changed so it would fit in with the series' plot. But, unfortunately, the United States Postal Service either hates delivering our mail, or the Fed-Ex man is trying deliberately to endanger his life, because none of our mail came yesterday. None of it. Least of all a 700+ pages book. And since I have some waiting left to do until my copy arrives, I figured I might as well post this and explain about the messed-up timeline.

So here are some notes, for those who are confused: Bella told Stephenie the whole story at one time. Which would put this little encounter before the release of _Twilight_, back in 2004 or whenever it was relinquished on the unprepared world. Which would mean that Bella and Edward have long since gotten married, etc. etc. Following along?

Obviously I don't know anything that's happened in _Breaking Dawn_, so I pretended that the story ends with their wedding and Bella's transformation. If there are anymore questions about timeline, etc, or anyone just generally confused, PM me and I'll try to help sort it out. This was intended to be just a short little "oooooh" moment for me: "What if Bella existed, and Edward, etc, etc, and that's how the story came around?" But it unfortunately ended up a little topsy-turvy, I'm afraid.

Sorry, extremely long-winded author's note ending now. REVIEW! Thanks. :)


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